Love's Labor Multiplied
by pari106
Summary: Speculations about Paris' lovelife prompt Q to wreak havoc with the ship and the multiverse.
1. Default Chapter Title

  
Love's Labor Multiplied  
by Pari  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount, Viacom...etc.etc.etc.(You know the drill)  
  
Rated PG-13 for some language and other stuff :)  
  
It was simulated night on Voyager and, having just completed a grueling-long trek through a particularly hostile sector, all crewmembers not on shift were recuperating in their quarters...or at least almost all. The Chief Engineer stormed through her department looking for a project and blowing off steam from a recent spat with her lover. Meanwhile, said lover, Ensign Tom Paris, sulked in Sandrine's.  
  
Tom brooded at the bar alone, being one of the only three occupants left in the bistro and being in such a surly mood that even Sandrine's holographically projected patrons decided to avoid him. At a table on the other side of the cantina two crewmen, Barelli and Markwell, sat nursing a couple of synthehols and discussing the Ensign's current mood.  
  
"It's a damn shame, that's what it is," said Barelli.  
  
"Yeah, when those two go at it the whole ship pays the price. Makes me glad I'm not a bridge officer."  
  
"Or an engineer! They get the worst of it. Paris pisses the Lt. off and Engineering are the ones who have to fear for their lives,...but that's not what I meant."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"No, I meant it's a damn shame to see the great Tom Paris reduced to this - moping around a bar at least once every couple of weeks, alone. I mean, he's Tom Paris! You know the reputation he's got! But suddenly he falls for B'Elanna Torres and he's practically a kept man!"   
  
Markwell laughed. "He doesn't seem to think that's so bad...at least most of the time."  
  
"Most of the time he's happy as a clam catering to the whimsical moods of a hot-tempered woman. That's what I'm talking about! He doesn't even realize he sold his freedom for a pretty Klingon engineer..."  
  
"A very pretty Klingon engineer, mind you," Markwell joked. "Pretty or not," continued Barelli, "Paris was my one last hope at getting some vicarious thrills on this mission. He's the only one around here who knows how to have any fun! And he doesn't have any trouble talking some lovely lady into joining him. Now he's gone and ruined it all by tying himself down to the one woman on board whose idea of fun is recalibrating the fuel modulators!"  
  
" 'Vicarious thrills', huh Barelli? What's wrong with having some of your own?"  
  
"Oh, that'd be good...if Lt. Erikson would give me the time of day, but she still refuses to go out with me."  
  
"Not for lack of your trying..."  
  
"Persistence, my good friend. Therein lies the key."  
  
"Or a complaint to your supervisor."  
  
"Hey, Bonnie wouldn't do that to me! She'd like me, I know she would. She just needs to give me a chance to prove myself likeable."  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Anyhow, we weren't talking about me...what were we talking about?" Then Markwell laughed again.   
  
"Nothing we need to be discussing at this hour," he said. "I don't know about you, but I'm drained. And I've got a shift tomorrow. See you at breakfast?"  
"Yeah." "Barelli?" "Huh?" "Are you leaving?" "Oh...oh, yeah. Where was I going?" Barelli rubbed a hand over his face and Markwell shook his head with a grin. "Man, I've never seen anyone who could get drunk off of a couple of glasses of synthehol."   
  
"I must've been more tired than I thought," Barelli said, a deep yawn punctuating his words. Markwell helped him to his feet and towards the exit of the simulated French establishment. Before they left, he threw one last glance in the Ensign's direction. Maybe I should say something to him. We don't know each other too well, but hey...who doesn't know Tom Paris? Nah, if there's one thing I do know, it's not to get too close to either Paris or Torres after they've had a fight! With another shake of his head, Markwell helped his exhausted and slightly inebriated friend to his quarters, leaving the brooding young pilot to his synthehol and his frustration.   
  
At the table next to the one Barelli and Markwell had just left, Q, reduced to 1/25th his size, sat where he had been undetectably eavesdropping on the conversation. He harummphed loudly in indignation. "A kept man! 'Catering to the whimsical moods of a hot-tempered woman'?! I cannot believe that's how Paris is letting his reputation get around these days! I've always considered him to have quite a way with the ladies, a lad after my own heart, and for him to be defamed this way...oh, oh no!..."   
  
A truly horrifying thought suddenly occurred to Q. "Is this how people see me now that I'm a married man? Oh, this won't do at all!"   
  
And with that, Q left as he'd come - in a blinding flash of light, this time full of omnipotent dread and indignation.   
  
  
.   
  
  
  
  
Q disappeared and reappeared on the countertop before Tom, forgetting to readjust his size in his fury. Tom sputtered on his synthehol.  
  
"Tom Paris, you have got to do something about this!"  
"Q!"  
  
Q shook his tiny fist at the disbelieving man seated before him. "Just what do you plan to do to get us out of this mess?" Once Tom regained himself from the shock of being confronted by a mini-Q, as was his nature, he immediately honed in on the humor of the situation. Controlling his laughter, he threw Q a grin. "Well, I don't know, Q. I don't have much experience with this sort of thing. Of course, when it happened to the doctor we just realigned his emitter array, but I doubt that'll work with you." For a minute Q didn't know what he was talking about, then he looked down at himself with a yelp. In a flash he appeared on the seat next to Paris, actual size.   
  
"Very funny."  
  
"What are you doing here, Q?"  
  
"The question, my young friend, is what are you doing here? Tommy boy, I am extremely disappointed in you!"   
  
"Oh, really," Tom drolled, returning to his drink. This sounded like the usual Q-babble - annoying, yet ultimately harmless...most of the time. "And just what are you so disappointed about?"  
  
"Well, your reputation, that's what. You're letting it go down the proverbial tube!" Tom raised an eyebrow at that. "I am, huh?" "Yes! Look at you - the infamous Tom Paris - sitting here pining over a woman." Tom's amused expression abruptly disappeared. "I'm not pining, Q, I'm sulking. There's a difference."   
  
Q took a moment to look around at their surroundings. "Well, if you're going to sulk I suppose this just would be the place you'd chose to do it. You're a true Frenchman at heart, Paris. There's a certain Captain I know who you'd get along just spectacularly with." Then Q shook his head woefully. "Your relationship is over." Tom sputtered on his drink again and laughed incredulously at Q - he knew what the so-called-omnipotent being was referring to. "Over? We just had a little fight, Q!" "You're always having some little fight. I'm telling you - this relationship is a bad thing for your image!"   
  
Tom laughed again, the sound more of a snort than a laugh - Q should know that he, of all people, wasn't the type to worry about his image. "You're making a fool of yourself in front of the whole crew!" "And why do you say that,Q?" "Because I've heard them talking, that's why. Do you know what they're saying about you, Paris? Do you? They're calling you a 'kept man'!" Tom shook his head at Q's melodrama and said, "I don't particularly care what people are saying. Besides...maybe I like being a 'kept man'...[Q's expression was one of abject horror]...I love B'Elanna. We have our problems, but we always work them out. I'm through judging myself by absurd standards like how many women I can pick up in one day. That's no way to live; I know, I tried it. And you know what? I was lonelier then than ever. There was a time when noone would keep a man like me. I consider myself lucky that B'Elanna wanted the job." "But does she, still?"  
  
Tom threw Q the dirtiest of looks and turned to him on his stool. "Look, Q, I don't know why you're here or why you're so interested in my lovelife..." "Because you're giving all us dashing young lady killers a bad name, that's why!" Tom's lips quirked at that.   
  
" 'Dashing young lady killers', huh? Since when did I become the representative for that group?" "For lack of anyone a little less spineless [another dirty look came his way from Paris] you'll just have to do. Listen, how can I uphold my image as a married, yet still undeniably attractive omnipotent being [this caused Paris to roll his eyes] if you're going around the Delta Quadrant giving men-in-love such a bad name?"   
  
Tom sighed loudly. "Q, I'm certain that whatever choices one man, lost in the Delta, makes in his love life is no threat to the image of a 'dashing young lady killer' like yourself, so you can just stop worrying about me."   
  
"But..."   
  
Supremely annoyed at this point, Tom said, "I don't even know why I've been talking to you! I should have reported you to the Captain the second you showed up here."   
  
"Oh, I don't hink we need to involve sweet Kathy in this. After all, this is about you and y..." Suddenly, Q was struck by a stroke of brilliance and he started to smile. "Oh...oh, that's just perfect!" he mumbled to himself, clapping his hands with glee. Seeing that an idea was forming in Q's devious mind, Tom became seriously concerned. "Q..," he began, in a warning tone of voice, but Q was too excited to listen.   
"Tom, my boy, I have just the answer to your problem! And it will involve the Captain...just not in the way you think."   
  
"Q..."   
  
"You just wait! 'Kept man', indeed! Why, when I get through here noone will question the charms of Thomas Paris!"   
  
"Q! I don't know what you've come up with, but if you cause me or B'Elanna any trouble, whatsoever..." Q waved away Paris' concerns like a fly, sounding bored as he said, "Oh, don't worry. I won't do a thing to get between you and your precious little Klingon. Although, I must say, I'll never know what anyone sees in that species...even in a member such as B'Elanna, with such a cute little..."  
  
"Q..." Tom's tone of voice was definitely menacing now.  
  
"O.k., o.k. don't worry, this'll be fun, and it will work absolute wonders for your image!"  
  
"Q!"  
  
"Oh calm down already! I've just had the most genius of an idea on how to fix this little mess."  
  
"I don't want you to fix anything!"  
  
"Well I can't just let a man after my own heart such as you..."  
  
"That was an insult, Q."  
  
"...continue like this, ruining his fine reputation. You know, the Tom Parises of the multiverse often make this mistake - settling down so soon, trading in their individuality for trifles like 'commitment'. But as a whole you have had quite the way with the women in the multiverse, Tom. And if those crewmen could just see that, you're problems would be over. And I think I know just the way to show them!"   
  
"The 'Tom Parises of the multiverse'? What are you talking about?"  
  
"Your salvation, Tom, that's what I'm talking about. Just wait and see."   
  
Q turned as if to leave, and Tom began to stop him when Q thought of something else. "Oh, and by the way, don't have too much fun, o.k.? After all, they can only stay for a little while." And with that and a wink, he disappeared in the usual flash of light.   
  
Tom sat very still, very disturbed by what had just happened.   
  
Oh no, I have a Q who is determined to 'help' me. What am I going to do?   
  
He pushed his glass away.   
  
One thing's for sure, I need to tell the Captain about this. Whenever Q decides to help it's a matter of ship's security. I have a shift in an hour, but if I change now I can probably get up to the bridge in time enough to talk to her.   
  
With that thought, he rose to leave, but then stopped as a sudden thought stilled him.  
  
"What did he mean by 'they' ?"  
  
  
_  
  
  
As Tom neared the exit to the holodeck, the doors slid open and Seven walked in. Tom was a bit surprised to see Seven at Sandrine's at this hour. She often visited the establishment, as a part of her attempts to become more social with the crew, but she was usually in her alcove regenerating at this time of night - or so he assumed. And after their last mission, Tom figured everyone could use a little extra regeneration time.  
  
"Seven, what a nice surprise. What brings you to Sandrine's tonight?"  
  
"I thought recreation would be a beneficial activity following the stress of our previous mission."  
Tom laughed. "Yes, I suppose it would. Well...I hope you have a good time." Tom nodded a goodbye, almost wishing he could stay and explore this odd behavior by Seven. Was that a...smile she had given him? This was interesting, indeed, but he needed to talk to the Captain before whatever mischief Q was alluding to began. However, when he began again to leave Seven stepped before him.   
  
"You are leaving now?" she asked.  
  
"Uh...yes. Why? Would you...uh, like for me to stay?"  
  
"I came to Sandrine's to find you," was Seven's simple answer.  
  
Tom didn't know what to say at first. He certainly wasn't expecting Seven to be looking for him at the moment - and he still needed to leave - but it was hard to tell Seven no. She was still so awkward and unused to her humanity. Whenever she made that little extra effort to explore it, it was just too endearing to resist helping her. Tom figured she must be looking for him for that very purpose.  
  
"Oh, you did," he said, "Well,...I guess I can stay just a moment longer."   
  
Tom motioned back to Sandrine's, but rather than going in, Seven seated herself on the curb outside so Tom sat down beside her.   
  
"Is there something wrong, Tom?" she asked.  
  
This was yet another shock for Tom - Seven rarely referred to him if not as Ensign Paris or Mr. Paris. Something must really be up, he thought.  
  
"Actually, I just got paid a little visit by Q," Tom said, not knowing exactly why he said it. He didn't particularly feel like telling everyone why Q was here - to meddle with his lovelife - but, then again, this was Seven. She was hardly one to gossip.   
  
"Q? Are you going to put the ship on alert?" Seven asked.  
  
Am I going to put the ship on alert? What does she mean by that?  
  
Tom laughed a little nervously and said, "I'm working on it. But what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Seven looked around but didn't answer; instead she got up and walked into Sandrine's. Tom wondered at her actions, but shrugged his shoulders and finally rose to follow her. Obviously tonight's little get-together with the former Borg wasn't going to get any less odd. Tom walked through Sandrine's doors...and was immediately grabbed from behind and pushed while a strategically placed foot in front of him tripped him. He landed flat on his back on the bar floor.  
  
"What the..."  
  
Before Tom realized what was happening, Seven had straddled his hips, her hands placed firmly on his chest. Then she leaned over...and kissed him.  
"  
What the hell!" Tom exclaimed, pushing himself up on his elbows. But Seven just pushed him back down again and laughed. She laughed!  
  
"There are no other crewmembers currently present in this holodeck, Tom. There is no need to continue this charade."   
  
"Charade?" Tom asked, thinking to himself, Oh man, what's going on?   
  
Seven's answer was to imitate his earlier greeting. " 'Seven, what a nice surprise. What brings you to Sandrine's tonight?' Who do you believe you were, as you say, 'kidding' ?"   
  
Tom just stared up at her, frozen in confusion until she leaned over to kiss him again. This time he felt her tongue dart out to caress his lower lip. With a yelp he tried to surge up, but since Seven was still clinging firmly to him he only managed to turn the two of them over. He landed on top of her in a decidedly inappropriate position. Seven laughed again. "Now that is more like it, Captain." she quipped. Captain? Captain! She just called me Captain!   
  
Tom's earlier conversation with Q raced through his mind. Has he done something to Seven? The thought threatened to incite Tom's anger, but then he remembered more of what Q said.  
He talked about the multiverse...is this a Seven from another universe? As Seven began to enjoy her position beneath him, reaching to touch him in areas he just remembered to try to swat her hands away from, he decided that this must indeed be a Seven from another universe. Either that or she's been taking one hell of a crash course in recovering her humanity!   
  
Seven took advantage of his musings to work on uncovering a little bit more of his humanity - she'd already gotten his jeans unbuttoned and his T-shirt had been completely torn off. Tom snapped out of his reverie when he realized he had to do something quick if he didn't want to end up entirely naked on the floor with the ex-Borg - then he dropped that train of thought when it provoked some disturbing visuals. Thoughts like that aren't gonna help you get out of this, Tom , he thought, finally capturing Seven's wrists in his hands and pulling them away to a safe distance. Why couldn't Q have sent me an alternative Seven that doesn't have the strength of 3 men?   
  
Seven seemed to be enjoying what she believed to be a creative bout of foreplay, but Tom's efforts to escape this little fiasco were more serious than she could have known. The situation they were in looked horribly incriminating - his torn shirt lay about a foot away, and they had knocked over chairs and a table in their little wrestling match. They both looked mussed and he knew both their lips must be swollen after the barrage of rough kisses Seven managed to sneak by his defenses. She'd apparently been wearing lipstick, because his chest was covered with the rose-colored imprints of Seven's small mouth.  
Oh, this is bad. This is real bad. How am I going to control her long enough to get out of here and talk this through before someone sees us?   
  
At least noone was there at the moment, he thought. And apparently Seven had ordered the program to clear the bar when she'd entered because there were no holographic patrons present to witness their...activities. Apparently, her command codes were the same as his Seven's. At that moment, Tom wondered if she'd used those codes to put a privacy lock on the holodeck doors as well. And at that moment, Tom heard the most terrifying sound he'd ever heard in his young life and realized she hadn't. It was the sound of two crewmen entering the holodeck - and heading for Sandrine's and the sight of him and Seven in their very compromising position.   
  
"Oh_my_God," he said slowly, too shocked to move, even if he'd had time to do something before the crewmen got to them. Visions of B'Ellanna and a bloody bat'leth danced through his head. "Tom?" asked Seven, seeing him pale. "Tom, what is wrong?"   
  
Then the sound of voices reached them and she knew...   
  
For their part, Markwell and Barelli were totally oblivious to what awaited them as they approached Sandrine's entrance.   
  
"Are you absolutely sure you left it here. You didn't drop it or something in the turbolift?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure," said Barelli, "Besides, you want to check every turbolift on this ship? I must have left my comm in Sandrine's. Where else were we tonight?"   
  
"I don't know. The way you left the holodeck tonight I'm surprised you even remember you were here."  
  
"Hey! I was just a little tired, that's all."  
  
"Well, you certainly seem alert now."  
  
"This is the second communicator I've misplaced this month. You know how that makes me look? I've got to find this one or it'll be tough to explain..."  
  
At that moment the two men entered Sandrine's and became utterly and absolutely silent. At the same moment - Tom Paris felt as though he were going to faint. Barelli and Markwell took in the scene before them: Tom pining Seven down, their clothes and hair all amuss, the torn shirt, the lipstick, and their eyes became the size of saucers. Then Seven looked up and saw the two crewmen and shouted in surprise. She jumped up, trying to extricate herself from her "Captain" before the disbelieving eyes of their junior officers, at a total loss as to what to say.   
  
For his part, Tom was still frozen in shock, and Seven's movement knocked him back into a kneeling position. Seven's top had apparently been torn in a very exposing manner and so, realizing this, she jumped behind Tom. When Tom realized the men were still standing there, their eyes transfixed on the spot where Seven had just been sitting, undoubtedly having witnessed this new incriminating evidence, Tom found his voice.  
  
"Uh, guys, this...this isn't..." Isn't what, Paris? he thought with a silent curse Isn't what it looks like? You think they'll believe that! Oh shit! "I mean...I know how this looks, but you see, it's not...Oh God!" Tom's words tapered off to a small groan as his head sank into his hands, resignedly, and he gave up the effort to explain.   
  
Meanwhile - once Markwell and Barelli had recovered from their own shock - the two officers weren't wasting time waiting for explanations. The situation seemed clear to them - they had just walked in on a senior officer - who was officially involved with another senior officer other than the one with which said senior officer was currently, apparently, 'debriefing', sort-to-speak. This was not a wise position for a junior officer to be in. Suddenly, both men began stumbling over one another towards the door, sputtering unintelligible apologies as they went.  
  
Tom's head flew up, frantic, and he was compelled to call after them. "No, really! It isn't what it looks like!"   
  
Despite his hurry to get out of the cantina, Barelli couldn't contain a wide grin as he looked back over his shoulder, gaining him a panicked look from Paris and a stern one from Markwell, who began to push him through the door. "It's no problem, Ensign," he said, nervously, "We didn't see anything, really. Don't worry."  
  
"But you don't understand..," Tom pleaded.  
  
"Sure we don't," said Barelli, who could not resist poking his head back in and shaking it, "And to think, I didn't believe you had it in you!"   
Tom groaned again, but then Markwell was dragging Barelli away and the two of them were gone.  
Tom continued to shake his head, staring at Sandrine's exit with remorse as he contemplated the amount of explaining he'd have to do after this little episode. He snapped back into action, however, when he felt Seven's hand on his shoulder and remembered her presence. Tom remembered her torn top (It was hard to forget, as she was kneeling their nearly half naked - a fact he quite determinedly avoided) and picked up what was left of his shirt, using it first to remove the traces of lipstick from his body then to give Seven a little bit more to cover herself with.. He tried to be particularly gentle and gave her a comforting smile - after all, she had no idea what was going on and this had obviously been rather embarrassing for her as well. Still, the shock of having had her "attack" him only moments before made him wary to getting too close, though he decided he had rather not try to explain everything about Q and his scheming just yet. He had to get to the Captain, and quickly, before another one of Q's little guests dropped in to accost him! He'd just have to try and find some way to keep this one from causing any more trouble until he'd had a chance to talk things over with her.   
  
"Tom...," Seven began, looking as though she were about to apologize, but Tom stopped her. After all, this hadn't been her fault, and he told her so. It wasn't as if something tragic had just happened, he reassured, but couldn't help thinking to himself 'Yet' as he thought of B'Elanna. Actually, the sight of Seven looking so...un-Borg and sheepish, wrapped up in their shirts, her hair down might have been endearing; in fact, this whole situation might have seemed quite amusing, if it hadn't been for his and B'Elanna's relationship being on rather tense terms already. As it were, Tom had no time to be amused or otherwise.  
  
Carefully, Tom placed his hands on Seven's shoulders in a comforting, but non-provocative sort of way.   
  
"Look, I've got to go take care of that situation with Q I mentioned, remember? Why don't you wait here for a little while, then have the computer help you locate me when I'm in my quarters, ok?" Then, to keep the mood light, he glanced down at her with a raised brow and smiled. "Just make sure nobody sees you - it might be difficult to explain your...interesting choice in attire for the night."  
  
That earned him another one of Seven's rare smiles and an even rarer - to him, anyhow - laugh. He planted a friendly kiss goodbye on her check and left for his quarters with a feeling of dread. After all, when Q spoke of his plans for Tom he hadn't said "Seven" would be coming, he had said "they". And Tom decided that "they" was suddenly a very intimidating word.   
  
_  
  
  
Tom made it to his quarters in record time, anxious to see the Captain. He was also anxious to avoid running into any fellow crewmembers. After the shock he'd just had he wasn't sure how he'd hold up. Tom breathed a sigh of relief as he keyed in the access code to his door and ducked in - so far so good. He headed for the bedroom, beginning to shed clothing as he went. He stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a sound coming from the bathroom.   
  
Either Harry or B'Elanna's let themselves in or I'm about to see something else I'd really rather not, Tom thought.  
  
He steeled himself, rebuttoning the jeans he was just about to remove when suddenly a beautiful, young blonde woman came out of the bathroom looking as though she felt she had every right to be there. Tom felt his breath catch painfully in his throat.  
  
"Tom!" Kes exclaimed, a familiarly brilliant smile from long ago lighting up her fair face. "What a pleasant surprise! What are you doing home now?" Tom tried to answer her, but his lips were frozen. Kes...it's Kes! How..  
  
Kes walked toward him, oblivious to the fact that Tom had paled visibly and stood, as if frozen, in his place. "Did you switch shifts with Samantha again? It's very nice of you to give her a little extra time to train in Sickbay, but I wish you'd let me know so we could have done something together today." Kes walked up and hugged the man she believed to be her husband, giggling slightly. "However you got to be here, I'm glad. You're certainly not dressed appropriately for anywhere else."   
  
Tom stood there a moment, motionless with shock at the contact, before he brought his arms stiffly around the tiny Ocampan, returning her embrace. For a moment, all thoughts of Q and his predicament had fled his brain as he was overwhelmed with seeing his long, lost friend - a woman he'd once believed himself to be in love, who he hadn't seen in so many years. Until just recently, and the way things had been then...  
  
Tom's hold on Kes tightened involuntarily as he remembered the angry older Kes that had briefly visited his ship. Yet this Kes was exactly as he liked to remember her. She was wearing her blond hair long and free, as she did that last year she was on Voyager. She had a form-fitting, dark blue jumpsuit on. By looking at her it was as if not a day had passed since she'd left, and Tom was embarrassed to realize his eyes were becoming slightly wet with unshed tears. It took him a moment to forcefully tear himself out of his reverie and remember this was another one of Q's tricks - this wasn't his Kes, but another Kes - just like the other Seven. Then Kes pulled away and was dashing about the quarters, speaking as she went. This gave Tom a little time to regain his composure in the meantime.   
  
"I have to meet with the Captain about that new harvest of Barkovian grain we've been trying to cultivate. I have some intriguing ideas about hybridizing some of the shoots with a sample of leola root," she was saying as she gathered datapadds (which must have appeared in his reality along with her) obviously for the upcoming meeting of which she spoke. Tom smiled, but said nothing until she returned to his side. "I know Neelix won't like the idea of my tampering with his leola root very much, but imagine how much less painful mealtime could be for you and the other humans if I could find a way to improve on its taste."  
  
"You certainly couldn't make it any worse," Tom said nervously, winning another small laugh from Kes.  
  
"Now, now, Tom. Be nice..." Kes giggled, and Tom smiled back, but then found it difficult to maintain the smile when Kes' laughter suddenly dwindled off and she stepped closer to him. She hugged Tom with one arm, lying her free hand on his chest. And the look she gave him made him swallow. Hard.  
"You know, Tom..." she said, lazily making circles on his bare chest with her fingers. "I really wish you would have told me you'd be home early." Her voice was soft and throaty and Tom swallowed again. 'Oh shit.' Kes began to lean against him, closing in for a kiss, and Tom's mind worked frantically on a way to get out of this.  
  
"Uh, Kes...I..." Tom stuttered as Kes' lips grew closer to his. Her eyes closed and then...the door chime rang.   
  
Tom caught Kes' shoulders, holding her at bay and restraining a little sigh of relief. "Well, what do you know? Someone's at the door. Sorry, honey."  
  
Kes' eyes opened and when Tom stepped around her she looked at him in confusion, frowning.  
  
"Tom, what..." Kes started from behind him, but Tom was on his way out of the bedroom, hoping to head off whoever it was who'd just decided to drop in. He frowned when he heard the entrance whoosh open.  
'Why is it that when everything's just fine, noone's around, but get yourself set upon by some sex-starved, trans-dimensional versions of your female friends and suddenly everyone wants to walk in on you?'   
Then Tom heard a voice form the other room and stopped in his tracks.  
  
"Tom? Tom, are you in there?"   
  
It was B'Elanna. 'It's B'Elanna! Oh shit!' Tom blanched. Now how was he going to get out of this. He turned back to Kes...but she was gone. He rushed over to the bathroom - not in there either. 'I couldn't be that lucky. She couldn't have just disappeared, could she?' A hand on his shoulder caused him to turn around.  
  
"B'Elanna! Uh...hi."  
  
"Hi," she said back, a small, puzzled smile on her face. "I wasn't interrupting anything was I?" she teased.   
  
Tom nearly jumped out of his skin. "What? Oh...oh, no, of course not. What would you be interrupting?"  
  
B'Elanna smiled, sheepishly, thinking she knew the reason for Tom's odd behavior. "Look, I know we didn't part on very good terms this evening, but I...I've cooled down a little, and I guess I just wanted to...apologize."  
  
Her words surprised him.  
"Apologize?"  
  
B'Elanna laughed at the look of incredulity on Tom's face and slapped his shoulder in mock indignation.  
"Yeah, helmboy, I am capable of the odd apology now and again." Then she became a little more serious. "You know how I get when things get a little rough around here. I know I'm a bit more...touchy than usual..."  
  
"I'll say," Tom interjected, earning a fierce Klingon scowl. Then he smiled and pulled his lover into his arms. "But, then again, I don't exactly make things any easier pushing all your buttons like that."  
  
B'Elanna's scowl lightened, and she gave a half-grunt of agreement, then admitted, "Of course, when I'm angry everything pushes my buttons." Tom just smiled. "Listen," she said, "Why don't we forget about this past evening and start over tonight? We can run that new holo-program you suggested..."  
  
"The one you said you'd rather wrestle with a Targh than participate in with me?" Tom asked with a wry grin, and B'Elanna laughed a bit sheepishly.  
  
"The same." But then she had a look in her eyes and a smile that had Tom swallowing hard again. She got as close to him as possible and said, "But I promise you, fly-boy, if I do any wrestling tonight, it'll be a lot more fun than any holo-program. And you are definitely encouraged to participate..."  
  
And with that, for the moment, Tom postponed all his worries about Q and got busy pushing some entirely different buttons than the ones that got him into this whole mess...  
  



	2. Default Chapter Title

Love's Labor Multiplied  
By Pari106  
Chapter 6  
  
When Tom ventured forth again (feeling a lot better, but nonetheless determined to get this mess with Q straightened up - now that he and B'Elanna were on better terms he didn't want anything to jeopardize that) he was dangerously close to being late for his next shift, but knew he couldn't waste any more time in reporting the situation to the Captain. After having the computer confirm the Captain's location as being Engineering - and after having sidestepped B'Elanna's questions on what had him in such a rush (he didn't have the time to try and explain such an inexplicably unbelievable situation to her at the moment) - Tom reluctantly left his true lover and headed towards Engineering before anymore other-dimensional, would-be lovers could manage to deroute him.   
  
B'Elanna walked him to his door, unashamedly clothed only in one of his bed sheets. He was just stumbling out of their passionate goodbye-for-now kiss, and hurriedly pulling on his uniform jacket, when a small group of junior crewmen just happened to wander upon the intimate scene. There were 4 officers in all: 2 women, who took in the scene with slightly embarrassed yet wildly amused looks of surprise; and 2 men, 2 very familiar young men, who seemed to simply freeze in place at the sight.   
  
Tom froze as well, both not believing and believing all too well in the would-be-comically ironic scenario that now presented itself. The 2 young men - Markwell and Barelli - recovered fairly quickly under the curious stares of their companions, but Markwell looked decidedly uncomfortable as they hurried past Tom and B'Elanna. B'Elanna, too satisfied with their recent reconciliation to feel as awkward as she might have, just smiled - looking very much like the cat that ate the canary. Tom, on the other hand - having seen the wide grin on Barelli's face as he passed by, was closer to resembling the canary.  
  
'Of all the crewmen on the entire ship, why is it that I just can't seem to get away from those particular two?' he lamented silently to himself. B'Elanna looked at him curiously, but he merely sighed and assured her it was nothing - with another long, longing kiss goodbye, then headed off once again towards Engineering.  
  
'The Captain,' he thought to himself as a sort of reassurance, 'I just need to find the Captain. She'll help me work through this mess.' Or so he hoped. By now he figured Markwell and Barelli had fully filled in their two companions on what they'd witnessed earlier in the holodeck - and no doubt their companions would do some filling-in of their own. If he was lucky, by the end of the day only half the ship would be gossiping about all the notches in Tom Paris' bedpost - which, if he'd had one, he was sure B'Elanna would soon be using to beat him severely.   
  
'Don't count your concussions before they're dispatched, Tom,' he thought to himself, "Just find the Captain; she'll help.'  
  
**** **** **** ****  
  
  
  
The Captain wasn't going to be of much help, Tom soon began to fear.  
  
Once he'd located Captain Janeway in Engineering he'd thought all his problems were over - he'd explain this whole crazy mess to her, she'd raise an amused brow at it all and maybe poke a little fun at him just to tease, then she'd throw every bit of her intimidating I-am-Captain routine Q's way and it would all be over.   
  
That didn't happen.   
  
Instead, the second he came upon her, Tom found himself being dragged into the bowels of engineering as the Captain began outlining her plans for upgrades in the engineering systems and Tom wondered why she was telling him all this. And all the while he couldn't get a word in edgewise.  
Finally, after about fifteen minutes...and after they'd ventured into a sector of engineering so neglected Tom doubted even B'Elanna spent much time there, Tom felt he could wait no more. Every moment he didn't tell the Captain about what had happened was another moment spent dreading the next incident, and the sooner Tom could get all of this out in the open the better. Captain Janeway had chosen that moment to take a break from her talk of engineering upgrades, and Tom made his move.  
  
"Look, Captain. Something's happened, and I know it sounds ridiculous, but I think you should know..."  
  
But, alas, the Captain wasn't listening. Tom resisted the urge to sigh as Captain Janeway peered around the corner they'd just turned, looking for...he didn't know.  
  
"Well, I think that went pretty well, don't you? I mean, noone seemed to notice, did they?"  
  
"Notice what?" he asked, puzzled, now peering in the same direction as she was - which meant he had to move up rather close behind her...which became a problem when the Captain turned back around and they ended up brushing against one another in a way ensigns generally tried to avoid brushing up against their captains. Tom immediately stepped back, hoping he wasn't blushing.  
  
He opened his mouth to apologize, but never got the chance, because Captain Janeway was answering his question with one of her own.  
  
"You don't think they noticed anything was out of the ordinary, do you? With me calling you off the bridge like that, so suddenly?"   
  
And it was at that moment that Tom realized the Captain didn't even seem to notice their close proximity, nor did she mind it when she did. In fact, when Tom took another step back, she took two steps forward.  
  
Tom's hope for anything being normal ever again was fast diminishing. He back-stepped again, stumbling rather ungracefully against a supply cabinet.  
  
"Uh...called me off the bridge?" he repeated, his voice sounding unnaturally high even to him.   
  
"Yes. You don't think anyone will find it...odd that I'd call you all the way down here right now just to show you engine room modifications, do you?"  
  
'Engine room modification,' he thought, 'Yeah, that's all that's going on here. Your just being paranoid, Paris. Jeez, this is the Captain we're talking about. Q wouldn't dare...would he?'  
  
'Um, Captain, you...you didn't call me off the bridge." But once again Kathryn wasn't listening.  
  
"Of course, what I really brought you down here to show you is something entirely different."  
  
Captain Janeway's eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, smiling at Tom in a mischievous way the Captain had never smiled at him before. It was the prettiest...and most frightening...expression he'd ever seen on her lovely face.  
  
'Oh, no, not again!'  
  
Tom swallowed, his mouth going dry. This had to be a bad dream.  
  
"What was it you wanted to show me, Captain," he squeaked, inching away along the wall. She was so close he could her breath against his chin. Janeway looked at him with a bit of a question when he called her 'Captain', but her smile didn't falter.  
  
She leaned in even closer...looked him straight in the eye...and in a husky voice said, "How much I love you, Commander."   
  
If Tom Paris had a weak heart he'd have died right there.   
  
He started inching away faster...and nearly tripped over a nearby storage canister.  
  
Captain Janeway pulled back, just slightly, with a puzzled look. "Are you okay, Tom? You look...nervous."  
  
"Nervous?" Tom replied, a little too quickly. "Me? No. No, why would I be nervous?"  
  
The Captain's smile still held a bit of puzzlement, but she'd obviously decided his behavior was nothing to worry about.  
  
"Just thought I'd ask, because if that made you nervous... this is really going to get you!" The Captain Kathryn Janeway pressed up against him...and kissed him full on the mouth.   
  
For a moment Tom froze in shock, then he did what he thought any strong, healthy young man in his position would do: He fainted.  



	3. Default Chapter Title

Love's Labor Multiplied: Chapter 7  
By Pari  
  
(See Chapter 1 for disclaimer)  
  
Consciousness returned to Tom long before he opened his eyes. He merely lay there for several moments, reveling in the safety of not being able to see what was going on around him. He heard the sound of officers coming to his and the Captain's aid just as he was passing out - he could still sense them nearby now. He didn't even have to see them to guess at the identity of the two officers. Sure enough, when he finally did open his eyes, there were Barelli and Markwell, kneeling nearby, looking at him as if he'd grown horns.   
  
"Don't you two have anything better to do," he grumbled, almost inaudibly, completing the sentence in his mind with '...other than catching me in uncomfortable positions, that is.'  
  
Absently rubbing at the spot on the back of his head that had made contact with the floor when he'd fainted, Tom glared up at the pair. Per usual, Markwell and Barelli were staring at him in a mixture of utter shock and surprise. At least Barelli wasn't grinning from ear to ear this time. Apparently catching Tom in a 'make out session' with the Captain had been enough to shock the amusement even out of him. The thought made Tom grimace.   
  
"Ensign. We weren't...we were just here waiting for some friends for lunch and we saw you trip..."  
  
"Yeah, trip," Barelli parroted, before Markwell continued, nervously.  
  
"And we...well, we thought the Captain might have a hard time getting you up." Barelli seemed to wince, and Markwell paled, his voice a little higher than before as he rushed to add "...and into sickbay. I mean, she might have a hard time getting you up and into sickbay."   
  
Paris glared back and forth from one man to the other, resisting the urge to sink his head in his hands in embarrassment and defeat. These encounters were starting to take on an uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu. Paris looked at Barelli who opened his mouth as if to say something...then snapped it shut...then opened it again, only to seal his lips once more and stand there looking ill.  
  
Tom liked it better when he was amused.   
  
And then he realized his captain...or at least this version of his captain...was kneeling at his side, as she placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Well, thank you, gentlemen," she told the crewmen, her voice holding just enough authority mixed with a little pleasant humor. (And Tom wondered how her voice could sound so normal, after having just been caught in such a scandalous situation) "But I think your captain could handle requesting a medical transport on her own." She was teasing, but her humor was lost on her three nervous companions.  
  
Then Janeway turned to Tom, frowning with concern. "I'm worried about you passing out like this, Tom. Maybe I really should help you to sickbay."  
  
"No!" Tom replied a bit too quickly. He didn't dare go anywhere with this alternate universe Janeway than he had to. What if she got...friendly again? What awkward situation would they be caught in next? Necking in the turbolift? What if she tried something in Sickbay? Tom nearly shivered at the prospect. What would the Doctor say if he witnessed one of these little Q-induced episodes? It'd probably short-circuit one of his relays.  
  
But Tom smiled to take the edge off his frantic response, shrugging and trying to look casual. "Nah, Captain, that won't be necessary. I'm fine, really. I just haven't been feeling that well lately. I'm sure it was just..." He struggled to think of a plausible reason, but he needn't have bothered.  
  
"Exhaustion?" Markwell offered. Tom sent him a quelling look, and now he looked ill as well.  
  
"I'm fine now, Thanks," Tom said, the underlying message of 'please go away' understood. Tom watched the two junior officers try to disappear as casually - and yet as quickly - as possible and tried not to sigh. It wasn't their fault that all this was happening, but then again neither was it Tom's. But that wouldn't keep B'Elanna from maiming him should the rumors reach her before his explanations. And if word of him and the alternate universe captain got around, Janeway might just help her. Her reputation was at stake, after all.  
  
He turned back to "Captain Janeway" and wondered if it was wise to send Markwell and Barelli away. Now he was alone with her once again.  
  
Janeway was frowning with concern and puzzlement. "Do you think that's it, Tom?" she asked, referring to Markwell's explanation of Tom's condition...and totally missing the meaning behind it. "This has been a difficult couple of weeks..."  
  
Tom managed a small smile that attempted at being casual and charming. "Captain, I can assure you - I'm fine! Don't worry. I probably just need to get a bite to eat and a little sleep."   
  
Unconsciously, he began scooting closer to the wall behind him - and further away from his captain. Janeway noticed, but said nothing. She continued to frown.  
  
"Are you sure, Tom? You look a little pale."  
  
She leaned over to check his forehead for a fever, and had to nearly jump backwards as Tom suddenly shot up and away from her touch.   
  
"No, I'm certain, Captain. I, ...well I guess I should be getting back up to the bridge," he said nervously, remembering her comment about having called him to engineering.  
  
Janeway blinked. "Back to the bridge?" she repeated, thinking 'I didn't know he'd been on shift.' She stood up, looking at her Chief Pilot skeptically.  
  
Tom sighed, seeing her expression. 'Damn!' He should have known he couldn't fool his captain - or any version of his captain. Kathryn Janeway knew him better than that. Remembering what had happened between them moments earlier, he figured this Janeway, in particular, knew him a lot better than that. Well, she was the captain, after all - whether she was his captain or not. It could only be a good thing to tell her what was going on. After all, who knew what was going on back in her own universe while she was in his. She'd probably prefer an explanation once she got back to her ship and realized her Tom hadn't been the one she'd run into in Engineering.   
  
Tom closed his eyes and shook his head on another sigh. How the hell did you tell Kathryn Janeway she'd just professed love to an alternate universe version of her lover who was involved with her Chief Engineer in this universe?  
  
Janeway watched Paris closely with concern. There was definitely something wrong - Tom looked absolutely ill. Was he going to faint again?  
  
"Tom..."   
  
Whatever Janeway had expected Tom to do next, she definitely hadn't expected him to gently put his hands on her shoulders and look at her with something akin to apologetic embarrassment. She stiffened in surprise.  
  
"Ca...Kathryn," Tom began, thinking it would be odd to call her 'captain', considering the fact that she thought they were a couple.  
  
Kathryn Janeway just stared at him through wide eyes.   
  
Tom took a steadying breath, and tried to explain. "Kathryn...I'm not your First Officer."   
  
Janeway blinked again, and didn't know whether she should laugh or call for that emergency medical transport. Tom looked totally serious.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I'm not your First Officer...and we aren't having an affair."  
  
"What?!" Janeway looked at him as though he'd gone insane, and Tom tried to give her a weak, little smile in sympathy.  
  
"I know this sounds crazy, but I can explain everything..."  
  
Janeway's eyes were suddenly bright with indignant anger, and now she frowned again - this time with suspicion.   
  
"I certainly hope so, Ensign." If that crack about not being her First Officer and not having an affair with her, of all things, was some sort of insinuation about her and Chakotay...  
  
"I do, Captain, just listen..." But then Tom realized what she'd just said, and his hands dropped from her shoulders. He became very still.  
  
"What did you say?" he asked, his voice a mere squeak.  
  
"I said you'd damn well better have an explanation, Mister Paris," she said, uncharacteristically allowing a bit of her anger to show. She'd been concerned that Tom was in trouble, and here he was making glib, inappropriate suggestions about her and the Commander's relationship... "Because, if you don't..."   
  
But Tom seemed to have a hard time concentrating on what she was saying. He looked - if such a thing were possible - even paler than before. For a moment his mouth simply opened and closed, as if he didn't know what to say (not unheard of where Tom was concerned, but certainly very rare). Janeway felt her anger retreating again, as her concern reasserted itself. Perhaps he really was sicker than even she'd thought before.  
  
"Tom? Tom, what is it?" She gripped one of his elbows - he'd looked like he could use the support.  
  
"Captain, you...you know I'm an ensign?" His voice was still unnaturally high.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"And you know we're not, uh,...that we're not having an...an affair?" This time when he said it, something suspiciously like a blush crept across his features.  
  
"I should think I would know who I am, and who I am not having that sort of relationship with, Ensign," Janeway said, her tone a bit stern.  
  
Tom's mind grappled with the information. It couldn't be. That would mean this was "his" captain. If this was his captain...  
  
"But, but what just happened, just a moment ago," Tom stuttered.   
  
"Tom," Janeway said, her voice both authoritative and calming at the same time, and this time it was she that placed her hands on his shoulders, though she had to reach up just slightly to do so. "What just happened is I was working on some engineering upgrades up on that catwalk above us. I heard something and when I looked down I saw that you were unconscious, so I came to your aid. Then crewmen Markwell and Barelli joined us."   
  
Janeway spoke slowly and carefully, as if to a child - or a crazy man. Tom nodded as if understanding, but she could tell from the look in his eyes that it took him a moment to assimilate what she'd said. When he did, he looked positively stricken.  
  
"Oh, oh no..." he seemed to slump against the wall behind him, sinking his head into his hands with a moan.  
  
"Tom? Tom are you okay?" the Captain tapped her commbadge. "Janeway to Doctor."  
  
"Doctor here, Captain. What's the problem?"  
  
"Ensign Paris seems to be ill. He was lying unconscious when I found him and he seems to be delusional. I may need a medical transport if..."  
  
But Janeway never finished her sentence because Tom leaned over and did something very unexpected. He spoke into Janeway's commbadge, "uh, actually, Doctor, that won't be necessary. Thanks, anyway."  
  
"Tom!" Janeway exclaimed.  
  
"What? What's going on over..." the Doctor began to huff, but Paris cut him off as well. "Paris, out," he ordered, tapping Janeway's commbadge and closing the comm line.  
  
"Ensign Paris..."  
  
"Listen, Captain, there's nothing wrong with me, I swear. I'm not sick. But something has been going on around here and I think you should know about it."  
  
Captain Janeway thought about this. "I'm listening."  
  
"It involves Q."  
  
"Q?" Janeway's spine stiffened with a feeling of foreboding. "What has he done?"  
  
Tom sighed, looking her in the eye.  
  
"Captain, you are not going to believe this."  
  
And Janeway thought about the things Tom had said moments ago, when she'd thought he was 'delusional'. She had a sneaky suspicion she knew why he'd looked so nervous around her...and she sighed with a feeling of dread.  
  
"Quite frankly, Mr. Paris, I have a feeling that I'm not going to want to."   
  
And then Tom went about explaining the events of the last several hours.  
  
  
**to be continued**  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Default Chapter Title

Love's Labor Multiplied: Chapter 8  
By Pari  
  
(See Chapter 1 for disclaimer)  
  
Meanwhile, in the Mess hall, Neelix kept a concerned eye on two junior officers who sat huddled in one corner, looking as though they'd just experienced a particularly harrowing experience. Even the other officers present seemed to shy away from the pair, leaving the tables directly around them empty and giving them a wide berth. They didn't know why Markwell and Barelli looked so shaken, but they did know this: anyone who would order an entire pitcher of Neelix's latest attempt at a passable coffee substitute definitely had some issues that they'd rather not know about. Currently the men were downing their second cups of the sludge, and even Neelix looked worried.  
  
It was a sad and sorry state to behold.  
  
Commander Chakotay, his mind on ship's matters, didn't seem to notice anything amiss when he came in for a quick break, leaving Tuvok on the bridge. He grabbed something to drink (from the replicator, thank you very much) and took a seat at one of the unoccupied tables in the mess hall - which just happened to be right next to Markwell and Barelli's.   
  
Looking up from the padd he'd been pouring over, he couldn't help but overhear the two men's conversation, spoken in the hushed tones that indicated gossip. He thought of coughing, or making some other noticeable noise to alert them of his presence - he certainly wasn't inclined to eavesdropping. But then he thought - what the hell? It was just gossip, which Voyager had more than her fare share of, he knew. Why bother breaking into the officers' conversation? It wasn't as if he himself would pass on any rumors he might here. Besides, he was the ship's commander. One of the duties of any good commander is to keep up with what's being done - and said - on his ship, isn't it? Commander Chakotay smiled at his own loose reasoning.  
  
The smile continued when he realized the topic of the conversation going on beside him: romance. A favorite of the Voyager rumor mill.  
  
"I can't believe this. I just can't believe our luck. I can't BELIEVE we just walked up on...," said one of the two.  
  
"Well, maybe we didn't walk up on anything. Maybe it's just like we said...you know, he just...fell," the other suggested, weakly. Chakotay tried not to laugh.  
  
Barelli, however, didn't make the effort. He gave a little snort, which managed to express his incredulity, despite his nervous attitude. Actually, they both looked oddly upset, the Commander now noticed.  
  
"Fell, are you kidding me?" Barelli said. "Did you see the look on his face? Oh man, that was guilt if I ever saw it." He took another chug of the thick, dark liquid in his cup and grimaced. Even Chakotay winced. Today's coffee substitute was definitely not one of Neelix's better concoctions, which was saying a lot.  
  
"He just looked nervous to me."  
  
"Of course he looked nervous!" Barelli exclaimed, then lowered his voice. He glanced around a bit, missing Chakotay whose seat was just behind Markwell, out of his line of vision. "He's no doubt worried that his girlfriend will find out. If she did..." Both men shuddered, and Chakotay's brows went up. This just got more and more interesting.   
  
Markwell shook his head, mournfully. "I can't believe this is happening. He must want to kill us."  
"Hey, it's not our fault we caught him cozying up to his girlfriends."   
  
Chakotay's brows rose higher. Girlfriends? As in plural? Interesting, indeed.  
  
"Yeah, but we shouldn't have followed him in Engineering," Markwell said.  
  
"Tell me about it," his friend woefully concurred. "Believe me, if I knew who he was with I wouldn't have. I didn't think anyone had that kind of guts - even Ensign Paris."  
  
Chakotay paused in mid-motion from taking another sip of his tea. Tom? Surely they weren't implying...  
  
Meanwhile, Markwell was shaking his head and Barelli was rubbing as temples, as if to ease a particularly unpleasant headache.   
  
"Tom Paris...," Markwell muttered, pondering the unbelievable events of the last twenty-four hours. Suddenly, he looked up at Barelli in accusation. "This is all your fault!"  
  
"My fault!" Barelli exclaimed in surprise.  
  
"Yeah. You were the one who complained about Tom being too settled down with B'Elanna."  
  
"Are you crazy? What does that have to do with anything? Hey, I didn't tell Paris to go around three-timing his partners...and I damn well didn't want to know about it."  
  
"The hell you didn't! You thought that little scene with Tom and Seven in the holodeck was hilarious..."  
  
Chakotay sat through the first half of Markwell and Barelli's heated discussion in absolute shock. They were talking Tom? He couldn't have...could he? He struggled to assimilate that information. Could this just be nasty, idle gossip? As much as he'd like to stick up for his friend, Chakotay couldn't immediately discredit the men's stories about Tom's activities - they looked genuinely shocked and upset by the things of which they spoke. And then the Commander's shock began to give way to other unpleasant emotions. Was Tom cheating on B'Elanna? How could he hurt her like that? Chakotay couldn't believe it. Anger began to creep in. He had to get to the bottom of this. He'd confront those two officers, then talk to Tom...but before he had a chance to act the officers' conversation drifted to him once again. They weren't arguing anymore, but they were still on the same basic topic of discussion.   
  
"...shouldn't have told them anything."  
  
"Well what was I supposed to do?" Barelli countered, "You were practically shaking in your boots after that little run-in in front of Paris' quarters. We had to tell them something."  
  
Markwell just sighed. "Do you think we should tell them about Engineering?"  
  
"Are you kidding? Maybe we should just phaser ourselves right now and save someone else the trouble. No, we're in enough trouble as it is. Besides, they probably wouldn't even believe us. Hell, I don't believe us, and I was there."   
  
Chakotay started to rise out of his seat...  
  
"Yeah," Markwell was saying, "Who would have thought, Paris and the Captain."  
  
...and froze right where he was. He sat back down with a soft thud. The Captain? Kathryn? His immediate impulse was to accost the two crewmen for talking malicious gossip that couldn't possibly be true. But something kept him still. Kathryn wouldn't possibly...and after all they'd...Chakotay stopped those thoughts right in their tracks. After giving Tom and B'Elanna her blessings she wouldn't do that, he rephrased his thoughts. This was all ridiculous. But, still, he listened.  
  
"I can't believe she finally decided to move on and start a relationship with someone. Especially with him...and behind B'Elanna's back. I always kind of figured she'd get together with, well, you know..."  
  
Chakotay shook his head, as if to clear a ringing from his ears. He couldn't believe he was hearing this.   
  
"Actually, I can sort of see it. You know, Paris and Janeway. They come from the same kind of background, like some of the same things...have you ever seen the two of them working together during a battle? Sometimes it's like there's noone else on the bridge."  
  
"I always kind of thought it was more of a mentor/protégé kind of relationship. Like mother and son, or something."  
  
"Yeah, well mothers and sons don't sneak around in the bowels of Engineering to make out."  
  
Chakotay really didn't need to hear that...  
  
"Besides, Janeway's hardly anybody's mother."  
  
...and he really didn't like the way that crewmen said that.  
  
"All I know is, things aren't gonna be too pretty around here if word of this gets around."  
  
Chakotay had heard enough. He was just about to confront Markwell and Barelli, when his commbadge chirped. He sighed in frustration, mind lost in the disturbing things he'd just heard.   
  
"Chakotay here."  
  
It was the doctor, and he sounded concerned.  
  
"Commander, do you know where either Captain Janeway or Ensign Paris are at the moment?"  
  
The commander frowned.  
  
"No, doctor. Why? What's wrong?"  
  
"Well, I just received a rather odd comm from Captain Janeway concerning Mr. Paris. I haven't heard from either of them since, and I can't seem to reach them through the comm system. Even the computer can't seem to locate them."   
  
Chakotay's frown deepened. The feeling of surreality that had begun to surround him at the first mention of Tom and the Captain grew.   
  
"Thank you, doctor. I'll see if I can find them and let you know. Chakotay, out." And then: "Computer, what is the location of Captain Janeway." The computer replied immediately: "The Captain is in her ready room." So much for the computer not being able to locate them.   
  
"Computer, what is the location of Ensign Paris?"  
  
"Ensign Paris is in the Captain's ready room."  
  
Chakotay's expression became grim. Quickly, he left the mess hall - and headed for the Captain's ready room.  
  
Unseen in the corner of the hall, an omnipotent being laughed in glee. Now this would be fun...  
  
He snapped his fingers and disappeared in a flash of light - his favorite mode of transportation. His destination? The Captain's ready room.  
  
  
To be continued  
  
  



	5. Default Chapter Title

Love's Labor Multiplied: Chapter Nine  
By Pari  
  
(look in Chapter One for disclaimer)  
  
When Tom got through explaining his predicament to Captain Janeway he breathed a deep breath in relief. What was it about the Captain that made him feel safe just by having her on his side? Q no doubt had a few more tricks up his omnipotent sleeves before he'd be done here, but just by telling Janeway the whole story, Tom felt as though he'd solved his problems. If nothing else, at least Janeway had the authorization to assign him a security detail - for protection until he could give B'Elanna an explanation for all of this.   
  
For her part, Janeway was trying to contain her smile. Here was Tom Paris - who'd come on board with a reputation for being the kind of guy every girl's mother warned her about, who'd nearly gotten himself killed on that planet, Bannea, for getting a little too cozy with someone else's wife - asking for her *protection* from a group of alternate universe women who were crazy about him. Falling in love with B'Elanna had changed him. Or perhaps it was fear for his own life. Either way...  
  
Janeway gave up and smiled. "Well, Mr. Paris, what can I say? I've always heard you were quite popular with the female population."  
  
Tom wasn't amused, and the Captain laughed. "Okay, I think it's safe to say Q isn't going to make himself accessible until it suits him, so all we can do is wait it out. I suggest you go on your shift like always. And if you should encounter any more..." the twinkle in Janeway's eyes earned a warning look from Paris, and so she rethought whatever other comment she'd had in mind. "Any more problems," she said, "Then just comm me. I'll keep an open line for you at all times. I'm going to finish up here, then I have a shift on the bridge, as well."  
  
Paris nodded and ran a hand through his hair. What a day. He could only hope it would get tamer from here on out.   
  
"Thanks, Captain. I guess, I'll see you on the bridge then." Tom said and the Captain nodded back. He still felt a little awkward after having met that alternate Kathryn Janeway. It was a harrowing experience being sexually harassed by your commanding officer. Not that you could call being kissed by Kathryn Janeway harassed, exactly...but that was a thought he'd rather not go into thinking at the moment.   
  
Janeway could sense his awkwardness. She'd never once teased Tom Paris the way she had and gotten away with it...which made it all the more difficult to call a particular detail to his attention. Now she felt about as embarrassed as he looked.  
  
"Uh, Tom..." she started, and he turned back.  
  
"Yes, Captain?"  
  
"Um, you might want to...freshen up a bit before you head to the bridge."  
  
"Why?" he asked, puzzled.  
  
Kathryn looked around a bit, then finally walked over to Tom and spoke as quietly as she could.  
  
"It seems that my counterpart and I share a taste in shades of lipstick...and you have some..." she gestured to the corner of her mouth. Then she thought, 'Oh, stop it, Kathryn. You're practically blushing.' Tom automatically reached up to rub at the spot she indicated, removing the light-pink evidence of his earlier encounter with the other Janeway.   
"Thanks," he said, looking sheepish. They were practically shifting their feet like a couple of teenagers...then they both nodded, turned, and headed in opposite directions as if the hounds of hell were after them.  
  
'*That* is one detail I'm going to leave out of my reports,' Janeway thought. Actually, she figured there was quite a few details about this situation she'd leave out of her reports. What a mess. Then she thought of something.  
  
"Oh, and Tom?" she called after him.  
  
"Yes, Captain?" he said, turning back.  
  
"*This* Kathryn Janeway would never behave in such a fashion towards her first officer," she said, and then wished he hadn't. Tom's eyes fairly lit up and she grimaced.  
  
His grin spread practically from one ear to the other, but to his credit he made no comment.  
  
"If you say so, Captain."  
  
**** **** **** ****  
  
A short while later, Tom was finally setting foot on the bridge, and he smiled. Here was the perfect place for his frazzled nerves to unwind. A lot of people would call him crazy for considering flying a 700,000 ton starship relaxing, but then flying was what he was born to do. It was like breathing to him. He had that rare sort of sixth sense very few people had - he could actually *feel* the ship around him; sense when it was in warp and at what speed. Flying was, indeed, a sensual experience for Tom - and he put every one of those senses into what he was doing when he was at the helm. No room for mistakes - not anymore.  
  
And no room, either, for worries about Q and his ridiculous antics. Tom smiled again and headed for his station...and was stopped by Lt. Commander Tuvok.  
  
"Hello, Tuvok. Everything nice and uneventful on the bridge today?"  
  
"Mr. Paris, you are precisely 3 minutes, 53 seconds late for this shift."  
  
Tom smiled wryly. Good 'ol Tuvok. He wondered what Tuvok would say if he told him he was late because he'd almost been making out with his captain...then common sense caught up with him. He'd spent enough time in the brig already, thank you very much.  
  
"Uh, yeah, sorry about that, sir...actually I had something important to report to the Captain and it took a little longer than I'd anticipated. I was just talking with her."  
  
Tuvok cocked one eyebrow in classic Vulcan form. "Then it would seem the conversation is not yet finished. Captain Janeway asked that I direct you to her ready room upon your arrival." He motioned in that direction, and Tom stiffened in surprise. The Captain had beaten him to the bridge? He hadn't expected her to be finished so quickly in Engineering. An uncomfortable feeling began to nag at him, but Tom pushed it away. 'Jeez, Paris, you're getting paranoid. If it wasn't the captain Tuvok would notice, wouldn't he?'  
  
Finally Tom breathed again and nodded, earning a questioning look from Tuvok with his nervous reaction. However, he merely nodded back, though he did keep an eye on Tom as he crossed the bridge.   
  
Paris stepped into the Captain's ready room to find Janeway rising from the room's sitting area with a cup of coffee. He smiled in greeting.  
"You wanted to see me, Captain?"  
  
"Oh, Tom, yes come in." She put her mug down on a nearby table and motioned him to take a seat with a smile. "Let me just get the door." Then she proceeded to initiate a privacy lock on the entrance. That nagging feeling returned.  
  
"Um, why are you locking the door."  
  
"What? Oh, I just thought it would be best if word of what we're discussing didn't get out and about just yet. I think we should talk more about what you told me earlier before we take any decisive action."  
  
"Oh." Tom said in immediate relief and returned the Captain's smile with a sigh. Perhaps he had nothing to worry about after all.  
  
He was just thinking again that he was being foolishly paranoid...when Janeway suddenly sat down in his lap, leaning close.  
  
"Now, tell me again what you said about falling in love with me." Her smile was wide and suggestive...and Tom groaned. He laid his head back against the seat. "Not again!" he muttered.   
  
"Janeway" frowned, missing what he'd said for the troubled look on his face. "What's wrong, Tom?" she asked, gently placing a hand on his forehead to check for a fever...and at that moment things went from bad to worse: Chakotay walked in.  
  



	6. Chapter 7

Love's Labor Multiplied: Chapter 11  
By Pari  
  
(see last chapter for disclaimer)  
  
  
Warning: You might think this ending is a little sappy, but I liked it. So there. :)  
  
The doors to Captain Janeway's ready room slid open, and Tom, Chakotay, and Janeway all turned to see....Janeway.  
  
Stunned silence filled the room.  
  
Chakotay blinked several times, then turned back to who he thought was his Kathryn Janeway just moments before...then jumped in startlement to see that the woman had disappeared into thin air.   
  
"What?...You...he...," Chakotay said to neither Kathryn nor Tom in particular, looking from one to the other. Then he suddenly sat down on the chair behind him. He looked back at Tom, who shrugged his shoulders with an apologetic smile.  
  
"Welcome to my world, Chakotay."  
  
Chakotay looked to Kathryn and saw the same knowing and apologetic smile. Chakotay just shook his head. "I don't think I'm well."  
  
"That makes two of us," said Tom, taking the couch beside him and expelling the breath he'd been holding ever since Chakotay walked in. 'What a roller coaster ride,' he thought, using one of the twentieth-century phrases he liked to coin in order to help himself relax.  
  
Janeway recovered rather quickly, considering the fact that she had just been confronted with herself. She sat down between the two mean, giving Chakotay - clearly the most shaken out of the two - a little smile, and patting his knee.  
  
"I take it you've had a brush with mine and Tom's little problem," she said. And Tom appreciated the way she called it *their* problem.   
  
"What problem?" asked Chakotay.  
  
"Q," Janeway and Tom answered synchronously.  
  
And suddenly...with his trademark flash of light...the topic of their discussion appeared.  
  
"In the flesh!," he exclaimed, then frowned. "Well, not really. But you know what I mean."  
  
"Q!" Tom exclaimed, jumping up. Janeway put a restraining hand on his arm, yet stood beside him. Chakotay did the same.  
  
"Q, this little game of yours has gone far enough," she said, in her most intimidating, I-am-captain voice. Paris almost smiled.   
  
"Oh, Kathy, you do excite easily, don't you? Perhaps that's why you and Chuckles here get along so grandly."  
  
Chakotay drew himself up, and Janeway glared holes through the omnipotent being. Paris merely shook his head. If Q weren't immortal, he would swear he was suicidal.  
  
"Q, this stops here - right here, right now! I will not have you creating havoc on this ship and seriously damaging the reputations of my officers and myself..."  
"Oh, Kathy!" Q said, looking heartbroken. "Kathy, I never meant to cause you any trouble!"  
  
He suddenly disappeared and reappeared behind the Captain, putting his hands on her shoulders. He tried to lean in to speak to her on her right side...only to back away from a threatening look from Chakotay, then leaned towards the left, only to receive the same look from Paris. Both men had their arms crossed and menace in their eyes. A look at the Captain confirmed the same.  
  
Finally Q threw his hands in the air with a frustrated sight.  
  
"I swear, you humans are the most ungrateful, irrational beings I have ever encountered in my entire, eternity-long existence!" He faced the three of them, giving a highly exaggerated, mock impression of Chakotay's glower. The Commander lowered his arms and shook his head with a sigh. Dealing with Q was like dealing with a very small child. A very small, very un-cute child, Chakotay thought. And Q gasped in comical indignation.  
  
"Commander Chakotay! I am deeply wounded!"  
  
"And well you should be, Q," Janeway interjected. "I will not allow you to harass Mr. Paris any longer."   
  
"Harass?! I wasn't *harassing* anybody. I was just here to help a good friend out..."  
  
"Uh-huh," Tom said, dryly, and Q scowled.  
  
"Until said *friend*," Q said, emphasizing the last word, "botched the whole thing with his impression of a trapeze artist with a fear of heights! You were so skittish you practically scared those two poor crewmen out of their regulation Starfleet uniforms!"  
  
Q sighed, with exaggerated patience. "In fact, if it wasn't for some clever improvisations on my part, the whole endeavor would have been a complete waste of my time."  
  
A chill seemed to spread through the room for Tom. "What do you mean, 'clever improvisations'?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, what?" Janeway echoed, looking wary.  
  
"Well, what did you expect me to do?" Q demanded, recognizing Janeway's expression. "Ole helmboy over there wasn't being of much help. So I had to make...other arrangements."  
  
"Q..." Chakotay began, but now Q was smiling, rubbing his hands together like an excited child proud of a new toy.  
  
"Oh, it was brilliant! Just brilliant! I arranged a little performance in that resort program the crew loves so much. I call it 'Alternate-Universe Tommy-boy and the Delaney Sisters'..."  
  
Tom sat back down on the couch with a thud. "Oh God!" he said, and Janeway sat beside him, a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Q..." she began.  
  
Q was still smiling, shaking his head with remembered genius. "It was quite entertaining, if I do say so myself. You know, you really *have* to have a hot tub to appreciate the truly special qualities of a set of twins..."  
  
"Q!"  
  
"Who saw?" Tom asked, shakily.  
  
"Ohhhh, noone, really. Well, except for a few crewmen here and there. And Neelix, of course. I do say, Kathy, don't you ever let your little pet out of his box? It's always either the resort or the messhall...resort or messhall. Can't you put him in astrometrics or engineering or a torpedo tube, or something?"  
  
"Q..."  
  
"Oh, and there were those two crewmen. You should have seen them!" Q laughed, and Tom shook his head in his hands. "They were practically shaking in those repugnant Hawaiian shirts that seem to be so popular with this crew...oh, and I guess there were a few officers there from Engineering..."  
  
Tom's head came up at that one. Engineering...He was a dead man - plain and simple. He was so dead, even his afterlife was over.  
  
  
"Oh, and there was that other person..." Q said, staring down at the carpet as though amazed at its pattern as he kicked at it with the toe of his boot. "B'Elanna was there," he muttered, barely audible.  
  
"What!" Tom shot off the couch as though propelled going straight for Q...and ending up flat on his back in a flash of light.  
  
Tom sat up, shaking his head to clear it. Janeway and Chakotay ran to his side.  
  
"Q, don't you have anything better to do than to mess with people's lives?" asked Chakotay, angrily.  
  
"Hey, I didn't plan *that* little detail, believe me. Those engineering-types are just so unpredictable..."  
  
"Q, I have had enough. I want your word right now that this will be the last of these little incidents, do you understand?" That comforting hand was on Paris' shoulder again. 'Just like a mother bear protecting her cub' Q thought snidely, and then 'Or maybe not quite like that.'  
  
"Do you understand me?" she repeated, and Q relented with a sigh.  
  
"Alright, alright already. I suppose it's all over anyways, now that Tom's let you two in on the secret and spoiled the fun." He feigned a pouty expression in Tom's direction, and his tone of voice was a comical exaggeration of an 'I-told-you-so'. "You just remember that the next time you need a good set of alternate-universe look-a-likes to drag your reputation out of the mud."  
  
Tom was not amused.  
  
"Well, I guess my work is done here, now. Give my regards to the little woman." And just like that, Q snapped his fingers and was gone.  
  
Janeway sat back on her haunches and sighed.  
  
"Thank God it's over," Tom said, massaging his neck with one hand.  
  
"Do I want to know the whole story?" Chakotay asked as the three rose.  
  
"No!" both Janeway and Paris responded simultaneously. And Chakotay frowned, thinking that they did that a little too often.  
  
Then the ready room doors opened, and B'Elanna walked in.  
  
Tom startled, and immediately jumped behind the Captain, holding her in front of him like a shield. Janeway rolled her eyes, and Chakotay raised an amused brow.  
  
"Tom Paris," B'Elanna was saying, somberly, "You and I...are going to talk."  
  
Janeway held up a hand. "Now, B'Elanna..."  
  
But to everyone's surprise, Tom's most of all, B'Elanna just smiled.  
  
"It's okay, Captain. Just a little talk, really." Tom blinked. She wasn't going to maim him? Then B'Elanna threw a big smile his direction. "We can even talk here if you'd like, honey." Honey? Tom swallowed. Yep, she was definitely going to maim him. At least.  
  
The Captain and Commander looked skeptical and glanced at Tom, but he - resigned to his fate - just nodded.  
  
"Alright then, Lieutenant. You can use the room for your...discussion." Then she and Chakotay left...but not before she threw a look to Tom that seemed to say 'I'm right outside on the bridge', and Tom nodded in appreciation. Yeah, she was on the bridge...Tuvok was on the bridge...he was safe. Right?  
  
B'Elanna took a step forward...and Tom took a step back. She just smiled and sat down on the couch, patting the spot beside her. Warily, Tom joined her.   
  
"Tom, I was just thinking...," she took Tom's hand in hers, smiling, and still he watched her with apprehension. "I was just thinking about all the really, *really* stupid things a person could do, and you know, I was thinking..." she leaned in, inches from Tom's face, and her voice got lower. Her smile disappeared. "...that pissing off a pregnant Klingon has got to be the worst."   
  
And then...she glared at him. Tom didn't move.  
  
"Help," he squeaked.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**** **** **** ****  
  
That night, Tom lay in bed thinking that life was good. B'Elanna was snuggled up next to him, her head pillowed on his chest. The arm beneath her was wrapped around her shoulders, and he slowly ran his fingers through her hair and traced the ridges on her lovely forehead. They were bundled up beneath layers of blankets, and nothing else.  
  
"You know, I was thinking, 'Lanna," he began.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Q's little antics today were horrible..."  
  
"Tell me about it."  
  
"But I guess I kind of learned something from it."  
  
"Oh?" she said, looking up at him with curiosity.  
  
"Yeah, you know. Here was this other Seven, and she was beautiful and innocently charming...and then there was Kes, and, well, you know how I thought I was in love with her once..."  
  
"Yesss..." B'Elanna said, waiting for more. She raised up on an elbow now, preparing to glower, not knowing if she liked where this was going.  
  
"...and then there was the Captain, and we have so much in common, really."  
  
"Uh-huh." Nope. Didn't like it at all.  
  
"Well, I was thinking how lucky all those other *me*s are, and I guess I'm the luckiest...because I have you." Tom wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her brow.  
  
B'Elanna blinked in surprise.  
  
"I guess Q's little tricks reminded me to think about it."  
  
Soon, B'Elanna smiled, and relaxed back against him.  
  
"Me, too," she confessed, thinking of that resort program and a hot tub. And of Seven... Then she playfully nipped at Tom's shoulder, kissing her teeth marks afterwards.  
  
"Although...," Tom was saying. "You really ought to see Seven in a yellow dress..."  
  
"Why you...!" B'Elanna shot up, and Tom laughed as she poked him in the ribs. And the two played and laughed....  
  
Unseen nearby, Q smiled a humble, knowing smile. "Not a total waste of my time," he whispered...and was gone.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 6

Love's Labor Multiplied  
  
Disclaimer: Everything and everyone herein belong to Paramount and Viacom  
  
Tom Paris had faced death many times: at Caldik Prime; in the Badlands; in that Akritirian prison. Then there was that mission to expose Michael Jonas. Then he'd nearly died floating in the dead of space, he and B'Elanna Torres clinging to one another as their environmental suits slowly leaked oxygen. And his attempt at transwarp flight had literally "killed" him. Tom was well acquainted with the possibility of death...but never more so than at the moment Chakotay walked in, catching him with Kathryn Janeway sitting in his lap. Because even if Chakotay wouldn't kill him...he'd want to, and the feeling would be mutual where Tom was concerned. Having Markwell and Barelli spreading rumors about him was one thing --having Chakotay walk in on him and the Captain ... this was another thing all together. This was going from bad to worse at warpspeed.   
  
Tom jumped up so quickly, Kathryn fell off his lap and the floor with a soft thud, and Tom grimaced as her derriere made contact with the ground. Some other Tom Paris somewhere was probably going to pay for that...but right now he had to worry about *this* Tom Paris.   
  
Janeway yelled "Tom!" indignantly, just as Tom was raising his hands in a conciliatory manner.   
  
"Chakotay, I *swear* this isn't what it looks like!" Chakotay was just standing there, blinking. "Chakotay?" Tom neared the larger man wearily, becoming anxious. What if the big guy just keeled over right then and there? If seeing Kathryn with him wouldn't do it, nothing would.   
  
"Chakotay?" he asked, worried, waving a hand in front of the Commander's eyes, and then jumping back in a flash when the other man finally tore his eyes away from the Captain to look at him, glaring daggers. Tom's hands went right back up. "Chakotay, listen, I..."   
  
"No need, Ensign. I'm sorry I interrupted you. But if you don't mind, there's something rather important I think I should be discussing with the Captain right now."   
  
He turned his dark, wounded eyes back to a puzzled and thoroughly annoyed Kathryn and Tom was sympathetic. He hated to see that look on Chakotay's face. The thought that the Captain would be with anybody else after all this time...well, everyone on the ship knew about the Commander's feelings for his Captain - everyone, that is, except perhaps the Commander and the Captain, themselves. Then Tom's sympathy retreated behind surprise.   
  
The Commander wasn't going for his throat, wasn't even saying anything scathing. Wasn't he going to do anything? For Kathryn? For Tom's wife? Perhaps this was an alternate-universe Chakotay as well... The thought froze Tom in his boots.   
  
"Oh, man, you're not going to kiss me, are you?" he lamented. And the Commander's head came whipping around.   
  
"What?!"   
  
"What?!" echoed Janeway, striding up to where the men were standing.   
  
Tom breathed a sigh of relief at the look on the Commander's face. Oh, good, he wasn't going to kiss him...he was just going to beat him to a bloody pulp. Wonderful.   
  
"Oh, nothing," Tom muttered, wondering if he could somehow laugh off the embarrassment of the situation before Chakotay could crush his windpipe. Perhaps this wasn't another Chakotay after all...in which case that whole kissing comment wasn't going to make life around here very easy. If he lived.   
  
"What's the meaning of this?" Janeway demanded.   
  
"I think you and I should discuss this...alone, Kathryn," said the Commander. And "Janeway" looked startled when he called her Kathryn. Chakotay turned back to Tom with his deathly glare. "And I think you should have a little talk with your *wife*, Ensign," he said, the unspoken half of the sentence, "before I do", clear in his expression.   
  
Tom swallowed hard.   
  
Chakotay wasn't going to kill him, after all.....he was just going to let B'Elanna do it. Yippee. Tom tugged at the collar of his uniform. He'd never known Chakotay had a cruel streak.   
  
"Your *wife*!!" Janeway suddenly exclaimed. She looked from Tom to Chakotay.   
  
"What the hell are you talking about?" And Chakotay frowned.   
  
"What do you mean, what am I talking about?" Tom sighed and shook his head.   
  
"It's a long story, Commander."   
  
"And you'd better start telling it, *Ensign*," said the Captain. Tom looked at Chakotay's puzzled expression, and the Captain's furious one. Where would he start? And then he didn't have to...because the doors to the ready room suddenly slid open. 'Who now?' Tom thought, and then he turned and saw.... To be continued   
  



End file.
